


Divine Fate

by jumponthechandelier



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action & Romance, After DMC5, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumponthechandelier/pseuds/jumponthechandelier
Summary: You foresaw his appearance, you foresaw your death by his hands, and you embraced it.You would welcome every moment in between, and when the time came for the clock to strike, you would run into the arms of a tragic fate-And you would thank him.(DantexReader)





	1. Arche//Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> “Despite knowing the journey and where it leads, I embrace it, and I welcome every moment of it.” - Arrival (2016)

Your body lurched upon the blade’s impact, blood spluttering out of your lungs with a cough as you rested your hands upon the hilt. Moros’ ruby, which once lay embedded in your chest, lay scattered upon the wooden floor in pieces.

You were free.  _You were finally free._

You could feel your senses giving out, one by one as time seemed to slow to a near halt. The ringing in your ears became silence, nerves that once portrayed such an excruciating pain became numb, and the smell and taste of copper eased to nothing. Even as darkness began to creep into your vision, you forced your head up to become eye to eye with your killer.

Blue eyes owned by a scruffy, yet striking face stared into your own. White hair, despite being quite long and disheveled, did not hide the sorrow that was so plainly evident upon the man’s face.

Heartache.

No, _no._

This wasn’t right.

You deserved this.  _You deserved this._

No one should’ve cared.

_He shouldn’t have cared._

 

**_12….27….2021 /// 9:39pm_ **

 

You shot up from your bed with a gasp, faint red light fading in and out as it painted the walls of your room. The large ruby that rested in your chest hummed with energy, your eyes wide as you moved your shaking hand to cover it up. The time and date flashed on the digital clock that rested upon your nightstand.

**1...12...2021 /// 1:38am**

Less than a year.

Less than a year before you met your promised fate. You did your best to suppress a sob, tired tears prickling the edges of your vision as you scanned your room. The outline of your figure stared back at you from your vanity’s mirror.

Why were you upset? _You wanted this_. The realization that this burden would no longer be yours, but some other poor soul’s, should’ve been a relief. But why, why were you shown a vision?

Why had he chosen to reveal so much, so suddenly, without even the card’s assistance?

Ever since that fateful day all those years ago, you would tell others when their deaths would come, when their money would disappear, when their relationships would shatter...

They would laugh, or take the hard to swallow pill in stride, or openly weep at your table. Either way, they would pay up.

And they would always ask the same question: what can I do?

You would say what you always did, eyes steeled and unforgiving like your keeper’s.

_“Nothing. He is inevitable...and he will come for you.”_

And just like he said when he tied his all-seeing optic to your desperate form, he too, would one day come for you.

Your path had been carved.

You let out a shuddering breath.

 

**2...17...2021 /// 2:10pm**

 

“Morrison...you must have somethin’ good if you came all the way out here.”

Dante looked at his newly found company, the man in question shaking off the snowflakes that had covered his form. He stomped his boots and kicked the shop’s door shut, the storm’s howling winds still loud and clear. The demon hunter’s confidant tilted his hat forward, a small smile on his lips as he stepped in and took a seat on the old leather couch.

“You could say that. Sure is interestin’, to say the least. Pays good, too.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the male equivalent to Love Planet, Trish already mentioned it.”

“Nah, this one you might actually be qualified for.”

The white-haired man laughed, kicking his feet up to rest on his desk and taking a quick swig of his beer. Morrison leaned forward, fumbling in his jacket pocket for a bit before brandishing a cigar.

“You know how they say that the Fates have a brother?”

Dante looked at the man before him with interest, blue eyes unwavering as he watched him flick on a lighter with ease. “Greek mythology?”

Morrison took a long hit of his cigar, eyes trailing the smoke before they returned to the half-demon. “Yeah, but this one ain’t no God. Nor does he bother to show his face.”

The snow storm outside rattled the rickety windows of Devil May Cry, sending a blast of chilly air through the ill-sealed frames.

“Some say he’s a demon, other’s just another divine being. The problem is he ain’t exactly something us mortals can avoid. The Spirit of Doom himself, the big bad who leads us to our deadly fates...”

The hunter snorted, but allowed the older male to continue.

“And rumor has it he’s tethered himself to a fortune teller downtown.”

Dante paused in his reach for a magazine, his interest now returning. Leaning back further in his chair, he moved his hands to rest behind his head. “And what exactly am I supposed to do about that?”

“That’s up to you, Dante. All I know is you get that orbuculum off of her and document its destruction, you get ten-thousand. No questions asked.”

“That’s it? Get the creepy orb and go?”

Morrison tapped his cigar on the ashtray that lived on the table in front of him, a smirk on his lips. “That’s it...but you know I ain’t always get the dirty details.”

Sliding his feet off the table with a loud thud, Dante’s eyes wandered to the window across the shop, frost now making it impossible to see outside. He appeared irked, a heavy amount of air releasing through his nostrils. The man in the hat watched him with curiosity, taking another hit of his cigar before smooshing it out like a light. “I can always ask Vir-”

With a grunt and a wave of his hand, Dante immediately shot the idea down. “Nah, he's all the way out in Fortuna. I'll handle it.”

His sharp eyes cut across to Morrison, voice suddenly skeptical. “...Who's payin’?”

“‘Bout the entire upper class of Enamel. Bank heir named Victor is the point contact.” Morrison dug a business card out of his wallet, sliding it carefully onto the coffee table.

“...What exactly did she do to piss so many people off?”

The broker stood, brown eyes glinting in the overhead light. “Told ‘em when they were gonna die.”

With another scoff Dante yanked open the drawer at the top of his desk, the old wood groaning in protest. Ebony and Ivory stared up at him, their shiny barrels still unscathed after years of use. His curiosity got the better of him as he looked at Morrison once more.

“Was she right?”

“Right down to the damn minute...all dead within a year. They ain’t exactly peaceful deaths, either.”

The half-demon let out a low whistle and stood. With a quick spin of his weapons, he placed the two guns in his holster and unceremoniously cracked his neck.

“Think her and her little voodoo king are killin’ ‘em?”

Morrison shrugged. “That’s the mystery, ain’t it?”

Dante grabbed Rebellion from next to the jukebox, the old radio somehow still buzzing with the forecast as he strapped the sword to his back. The fluorescent Devil May Cry sign located above the bookshelf flickered in and out.

“Better go get my fortune read, then.”


	2. Kairos

**2...10...2021 /// 5:17pm**

“What makes you think she’s involved in any of this? Could be a coincidence. People die all the time.”

Dante lazily flipped through the files he was given, eyebrow upticked in mock questioning as he regarded the man before him. Victor, his name. Tall, poised, around Nero’s age, and sticking out like a sore thumb in the dive bar they were in. His coiffed blonde hair, green eyes, and sharp features matched well with the permanent scowl that seemed to be plastered on his face. “You would think that after twelve deaths in one year people would stop calling it a coincidence.”

“You think some girl with a magic orb killed all these people?”

The police reports lined up with what Morrison had hinted at earlier in the week: gruesome. Dante didn’t want to fly into this job on the seam of his pants, though, not with the possibility of some all-mighty being using a human as a vessel. That, and Dante wanted to know just how much shit Victor had managed to dig up.

The banker scoffed, leaning further back into the booth they resided in, one arm coming up to rest on the top of the seat.

“You would think that after Red Grave people like you would stop putting up so much shit.”

Dante slapped the files down onto the rickety table and slid them off to the side. He narrowed his eyes, but a smirk still played on the edges of his lips. “There are some things you don’t need to know, kid.”

“Whatever you say, but I’ve already found out enough shit to know she killed my father. Now…”

Victor leaned in, both elbows now on the table. “You get that hexed stone off of her and bring it to me before someone else decides to just put a damn bullet in her head.”

The blonde grabbed the files off the table and stood, brushing off some imaginary dust on his blazer with disgust. He turned to leave, looking over his shoulder and regarding Dante one last time. “Call me when it’s done and I’ll cut the check.”

**2...10...2021 /// 7:04pm**

"One second!"

You called out from your kitchen, barely hearing the ringing of your front door’s chime over the screaming of your tea pot. You swiftly cut the stove-top off, hands reaching up to tighten the shawl that hung from your shoulders as you made your way into the shop’s front.

The crackling fire awashed the small room in its light, two large chairs and a table placed nearby for your readings. There, with his elbows on his knees and face turned away from you, sat a man in a long red coat. His white hair was stark against his dark attire of a grey shirt and black jeans. Your eyes flashed to the large sword that rested against the wall near your front door.

“Sorry for barging in, you don’t exactly have your business hours posted anywhere.”

His voice was gruff, but not quite serious. His entire aura had a sudden chill running up your spine. It seemed so unusual and... _familiar_.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I have...more of an open door policy.”

The man let out an amused scoff, his face finally coming into full view as he turned to look at you. “I guess we have that in common, then.”

Blue eyes connected with yours, the rapid beating of your heart pounding in your ears like a drum. You felt your nerves swirling in your stomach like a storm, nearly having you double over as the ruby in your chest burned with anger.

Your eyes cut to the calendar across the room, your hand gripping onto your shawl like a lifeline. There, circled in bright red, was Wednesday the 10th.

Today was the day you were to meet the man who would take your life.

Given the date just under a week ago, sent through with a pulling of the Tower card and a mocking whisper in your ear from Moros himself, you had yet to figure it out. Your mind scrambled day after day to figure out the circumstances that would align for this man to wait such a long amount of time to kill you.

Ten whole months.

But, _why_?

Your voice was shaky as you did your best to hold your ground. “Did Victor send you?”

The man’s face appeared to scrunch up in confusion, eyes flashing with something that was akin to concern. “I’m not the first, huh?”

“...No.”

He stood, causing you to take a step back out of pure instinct. He was tall, towering over your form as his half-gloved hand came up to rub his stubbled chin in thought. “Well, let’s go ahead and get down to business then, Sunshine.”

He dropped his hand back down to his side. “Might as well drop that shawl, I already know what’s underneath that.”

You narrowed your eyes, your hold on the fabric tightening. “Excuse me?”

The man waved his hand flippantly in the air, a smirk playing on his lips. “Not like that. I just have a little inkling on why no one has managed to get that orb Victor wants so bad.”

Taking a deep breath, you steeled your eyes with his. “And why do you think that?”

“Because deals with demons and deities aren’t exactly a two-way decision making process. It’s tethered to your very being, isn’t it?”

Disbelief took over your features, freezing you to the spot as the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace. The man quirked his brow, tapping his foot lightly on the wooden floors as he waited patiently for you to mull over your response.

“...This path was my decision.”

“Maybe so, but you didn’t plan on there being so many victims, did you?”

His words cut like a knife, dredging up the memories of watching individuals break down as you told them their fate. Your emotions would be stone-cold and wrapped in a vice until you shut the door behind them, hand coming up to cover the sob that would manage to crawl out of your lungs every time. Those readings were torture, but unpreventable. If they were to ask then they would receive and you…

You were a messenger without a will.

“They sealed their fate when they asked. There was nothing I could do.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes downcast as you felt yourself submerge into the waves of guilt that constantly wracked your mind. This man’s very presence was breaking down whatever defensive walls you had built up with every single word he spoke, his eyes continuing to hold some sort of softness even as he listed your very crimes to your face. A heavy sigh from him had you snapping out of your reverie, his head nodding towards the chair. “You wanna tell me how you got into this mess, Sunshine?”

You stepped towards the chair, slowly pulling off your shawl to reveal the sphere ruby that was implanted in your skin. It lay right in the center of your chest, surrounded by small, harsh red scars that veined out from it like branches. You lay the fabric on the back of the chair, watching as the man’s eyes widened ever-so slightly.

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

You moved to sit down, a sigh escaping you as you leaned into the cushion, eyes moving to look up at your visitor. “My name is (Y/N). Yours?”

He smirked, taking a seat across from you. “Dante.”

“Well, Dante…I hope you like long stories.”


End file.
